I've my own reasons for disliking this job. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. Plote was sleeping or deaf. You won’t want to be late the first evening, and it’s ten minutes past seven now. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. Bu kokulara karşı bir çözüm arayışı, genç bir Fransız parfümör olan Sophie için bir tutkuya dönüştü.
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